


Kicking The Odds

by EllanaSan



Series: Oria-verse [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Post Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie finally shed off her coat and Haymitch couldn’t help but stare. That was unmistakably a pregnant belly. Which was coherent with the fact that she had said she was. Pregnant, that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kicking The Odds

**Author's Note:**

> So this takes place post-Mockingjay, I hope everyone likes it. 
> 
> Thanks to Akachankami for the beta!

 

**_ Kicking The Odds _ **

Haymitch was contemplating the idea of going to bed. Night had fallen a while ago, rain was softly trickling down the window and the cracking of the logs in the fireplace was slowly lulling him to sleep. His bottle of liquor was already half-empty but that didn’t keep the nightmares at bay anymore. Alcohol had long stopped being of any comfort or use. It took too long and too many bottles to get drunk and passing out in the middle of his living-room didn’t bring any sort of rest.

He made the transparent liquor twirl in his glass thoughtfully, wondering why he even bothered. Oh, he knew why, of course. Drinking was something to do. He had started again after the rebellion, he had tried to drown everything in alcohol like he had always done before but that hadn’t worked out. He could never forget. The dead friends, the betrayals, the disappointments… Victory came at a sharp price like it always did.

He had slowed down the drinking a few months after coming back to Twelve because Katniss and Peeta needed taking care of. That was something to do. Because that was also why he drank so much: the rebellion had given him a part to play but now that it was over, he was lacking a purpose. So, drinking was good. Drinking helped to keep the boredom away, it wasted hours and it made time fly faster.

It also helped him not to _think_. Thinking was bad, especially at night like he was prone to do. Thinking led to revisiting regrets and regrets led to such deep moments of self-loathing he couldn’t stand his own presence. Yeah, thinking was bad and maybe he shouldn’t go to bed just yet, maybe he should drink a bit more, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy it, because he didn’t want to think that night. It was futile, of course, he was always thinking.

The geese started to honk like crazy before he could contemplate the idea of drinking another glass and he put that one down with a sigh. Katniss or Peeta, maybe both… Katniss was good at dealing with Peeta’s episodes but they were still frequent and he could become violent sometimes. Peeta was strong, she couldn’t always handle him on her own. And, of course, there were Katniss’ nightmares and panic attacks that left her convinced she was back in the arena or in the war and she would run to Peeta’s or to his house, seemingly at random.

He was halfway to the kitchen when the knocks rang out through the silent house. He backtracked to the front door with a frown. The kids always used the backdoor, even when they were lost in their nightmarish imagination, and they certainly didn’t knock.

His predominant feeling when he opened the door was curiosity – not dread or anxiety, two things most people would feel when strangers hammered at their door in the dead of night – but curiosity. Truly, he would have welcomed anything that could break the routine his life had become.

Curiosity morphed into astonishment when he opened the door.

He’d have expected everything but the woman standing on his porch, blond hair plastered to her head by the rain, face devoid of all make-up, clad into an oversized white coat and clutching a huge brown bag to her chest like a lifeline. Grey eyes met blue ones in pure shock.

He wondered foolishly if thinking about regrets had conjured her up out of thin air. He wondered if he had fallen asleep on his couch and if the whole thing was a dream. He wondered if a dream could make him _ache_ that much.

“Hello, Haymitch.” she said softly, in her familiar Capitol accent.

He stayed silent, she averted her eyes. A voice in the back of his mind instructed him to step aside and let her in because the rain was pouring hard and she was soaked to the bone but he couldn’t move. He was transfixed by the sight of Effie Trinket, standing in front of his house like she had vowed to never do.

Regret, he thought, didn’t really cover it.

“I should have called first, of course.” she cleared her voice. “That’s terribly rude of me, but…” She swallowed, and stared at the floor, clinging to her bag a little tighter. “I wasn’t sure I would be welcomed and…”

“I told you you could come whenever.” he cut her off before he could think of anything better to say. The ‘you turned me down’ was implied and she cringed slightly. It had been two years since the last time he had seen her, they hadn’t parted on good terms. She had been so… _angry_ after the rebellion. Angry at Plutarch, angry at Finnick and every victor she had once called friend and who had lied to her anyway, angry at Cinna and Portia even though they were long dead… _Angry at him_. She had every right to be obviously. He had failed her. He had promised her he would keep her safe and she had still ended up in a Capitol prison being tortured for information she didn’t have – it was Plutarch who had messed that part up, not him, but it was his fault for trusting Plutarch with her retrieving team, he should have taken care of it himself.

She hadn’t been in a good place after they had rescued her. Wounds had healed but the emotional ones had already festered while she was in that cell. She had called him names he had never heard her utter before, she had sworn she would hate him until her last breath, she had said everything bad that had happened to her could be summed up in two words: Haymitch Abernathy. And she had been right, of course, she had been. It wasn’t him who had slowly opened her eyes to the barbaric ways of the Capitol, she had done that on her own, but it _was_ him who had encouraged her on that path of self-realization. It was him who had slept with her and foolishly believed Snow would be none the wiser. It was him who had denied any feelings for so long and probably broken her heart more than once even though he was also breaking his at the same time – he had just been too drunk and too stupid to see it before Thirteen and the unwelcomed revelation that he missed her, worried sick about her and probably had more than feelings for her.  

“You took your time, sweetheart.” he added. He had stood at the foot of her hospital bed in Thirteen and he had taken all the abuse she could throw at him without flinching. He had told her he had made sure Coin wouldn’t touch her, she had told him he shouldn’t have bothered. He had told her he intended to stay in the Capitol for a while, she had told him to go back to his pigsty of a District. He had told her she should come with him, she had laughed at his face. He had looked at the woman he had only hated as much as he had loved and he had refrained from any mocking, cutting or sarcastic remark. Perhaps, he had mused afterwards – during one of his many night of thinking – _that_ had been his mistake. He had treated her like she wasn’t really Effie anymore and she had acted accordingly.

“You said I could come if I needed help.” she reminded him. He wondered if she was aware she was using her bag as a shield, she was pressing the huge thing against her like it would protect her from the rest of the world. “I need help, Haymitch.” It was rushed and her voice cracked in the middle of his name. “I really, _really_ need help.”

He stepped aside. What else could he do? “Come in.”

Relief and gratitude washed over her face as if she had really been unsure he would welcome her. He closed the door behind her and reached for her drenched coat but she stepped away quickly, clutching her bag tighter. That made him frown. “Effie?”

He wasn’t used to her being edgy. A lot of things could have changed in two years, of course, everyone wasn’t as stuck in their own muddy life as he was. She didn’t look angry at him anymore, that was always a plus.

Her lips wobbled and her blue eyes were full of tears. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last time.” she confessed, looking at her bag. “You should know I truly mean it. I was unfair to you and I’m not just saying that because I showed up at your door in the middle of the night with a handful of problems.”

“Okay.” he accepted her apology with a shrug. “You weren’t that unfair but okay.” He lifted his eyebrow and smirked. “After all, you don’t admit being wrong often enough. That’s good for you. Brings you down a peg.”

Maybe they were both out of practice at banter or maybe it wasn’t as easy as he remembered because she didn’t reply with a barb of her own. Her mouth twitched but it was kind of a sad twitch and that sent a hundred of alarm bells ringing in his head.

“May I have a hug?” she whispered and it threw him off, that forced politeness, it really did. The Effie he remembered wasn’t the kind of woman to ask for a hug or a kiss or whatever she was after. When she wanted something, she simply took it.

“What happened to you?” It was a stupid question. A very, very stupid question. War had happened to her and he knew that better than anyone, he had read her file after all. But when he raised a cautious hand to brush the damp strand off her face, she didn’t flinch or try to avoid his touch. She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears, he couldn’t blame her there was a lump in his throat too. He had never thought she would ever come back to him – even if she was there because she needed help and probably not because she wanted to make peace with him – and he wasn’t totally convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

The brown bag slipped to the floor and he barely registered that the splashing sound it made was too light for something so big, she threw her arms around his neck and started to sob and he gathered her close with relief. Something finally settled in his stomach, something that had been swirling since he had first arrived in Thirteen and hadn’t found her already there waiting for him.

Well, he gathered her close…

He tried to.

There was still something between them. Something big. Something uncomfortably pressed against his stomach that wasn’t her bag.

He froze and her breathing caught. “What’s under your coat?” he asked. It seemed it was a night for stupid questions.

She managed to get a grip on her sobs and stepped back, he didn’t like the way she was avoiding his eyes. “Don’t throw me out tonight, please.” she begged. “I… I have nowhere else to go.”

He blinked and stared at the round form under her coat before looking down at the bag that wasn’t _so_ huge in retrospect. It looked mostly empty. “That’s all the stuff you have?” There couldn’t be more than a few pieces of clothing in there – and yes, it was addressing the less urgent matter but, really, he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept what was hiding under her coat.

“I left the rest at the station. I haven’t much left but I packed what I could.” Her voice was uncertain. “The staff said it would be safe until tomorrow.”

“The rest?” he asked, confused. Packing?

She rubbed her face tiredly, a thing he had never seen her do before. “Three cases and two bags, clothes and some mementoes mostly.” she explained. “I sold everything else.”

“Alright.” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “Alright…”

“Haymitch…” she tried but he lifted a hand to stop her from going further.

“You’re soaked.” he observed. Stating the obvious, what a good way to avoid the main subject. “There’s a fire in the living-room, you should get dry. I will… get us something to drink.” He took back everything bad he had said about alcohol. Alcohol seemed like a very good idea right then.

He started towards the kitchen but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Do you want me to go?” she asked openly. He almost reminded her that she had begged him not to throw her out a minute earlier. Almost. Her eyes were dry now. He wondered how much that had to do with the round lump under her coat he was actively not looking at. “Of course, you _did_ say you would always be there for me if I needed something but what do I know, you also said you would have my back before leaving me behind and running to your precious rebels!” He winced. _Mood swings_ , his brain supplied helpfully. Her eyes widened, like she was surprised and horrified at what had come out of her own mouth. “I’m _so_ sorry. I really didn’t mean to…”

“Not so forgiven, am I?” he snorted. He was glad for her outburst. He had been worrying she had no fire left in her.

“Yes, you are.” she protested. “It wasn’t your fault, it took me time to accept that, but…”

“It was.” he said, unable to look at her in the eyes. “I should have made sure you were safe. For what it’s worth, I didn’t think…”

“I know.” she folded her arms on her chest. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. Please.” She squeezed his arm softly. “But I _will_ go if you don’t want me in your home. It’s alright. I understand. Unmarried, homeless, pregnant women aren’t usually very honorable guests… People tend to turn them away even in the Districts. Things hadn’t changed that much.”

“Unmarried?” God knew why that was the part he chose to stop on.

Her cheeks flushed in shame. “I shouldn’t have come here… You don’t owe me anything. I don’t know why…”

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” he frowned, pushing her gently in the living-room.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “People will probably talk and…”

“When did I ever care about what people have to say?” he rolled his eyes. “Go sit near the fire, you’re going to catch a cold in that damp thing.”

She finally shed off her coat and Haymitch couldn’t help but stare. The panic was instinctive, as was the frantic counting of the months that had passed since he had last been intimate with her – stupid, of course, it was well over two years ago, almost three. She wasn’t as big as he had first thought. The coat was heavy and apparently waterproof because her woolen night blue dress was dry – her clothes also showed traces of wear, a thing he had never noticed on Effie before, she used to wear a dress once and buy another. Still, that was unmistakably a pregnant belly. Which was coherent with the fact that she had said she was. Pregnant, that was.

His staring was brought to a stop when she placed a self-conscious hand on the round lump.

“Drink?” he offered, not waiting for a reply before picking up his bottle of liquor and swallowing two long mouthfuls that did nothing to clear his mind. Her mouth was pitched in displeasure and if it hadn’t been for the pregnancy and the lack of wig and make-up, he would have thought they had gone back in time. “Yeah, or not.” He racked his brain for an acceptable alternative. “I have tea.”

“Tea would be delightful.” she accepted.

He escaped to the kitchen with relief. He hadn’t been prepared to deal with Effie knocking on his door, he was positively sure he _wasn’t_ prepared to deal with a _very pregnant_ Effie coming back into his life. He took his time with the tea, trying to remember how Katniss did it – cause the tea belonged to her, he’d drink coffee over tea any day – and when he finally came back to the living-room with two mugs , he felt a bit more composed.

Effie was sitting on the chair closest to the fire and was slowly rubbing her stomach with a wince.

“You’re okay, sweetheart?” he worried. It would be just his sort of luck for her to go into labor…

“Yes.” She accepted the mug he was handing her with a small smile. Her hair was starting to dry and it had begun to curl just the way he liked it. She was still _bloody_ beautiful and it took his breath away for a second. “It was a long trip, that’s all.” She chuckled bitterly. “Forget that. It was a long couple of years…” She sighed. “I’m _so_ tired, Haymitch…”

He took a sip of his spiced coffee – he was sure he would never fall asleep anyway – and sat on the coffee table because it was the closest sit to her available. “Are you going to tell me or are we doing the thing when I don’t ask and you don’t tell until your problems show up at my door and it becomes a big mess?” he shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome either way but… You know.”

“You’re so rude.” she grinned. “Call me a fool but I missed it.”

They looked at each other, he smirked and, for a second, all was well.

“Seriously, though…” he hesitated. “Do I need to worry about a guy showing up here looking for you?” He nodded at her belly. “I like punching strangers, you know.” And he would _love_ to punch the guy who got her pregnant and had taken care of her so poorly that she had felt the need to run away to the other side of the country.

“No one will show up.” she promised. She carefully placed the mug on the armrest and put both of her hands on her belly. “No one will come looking for me. I… I settled all my debts before leaving the Capitol. I haven’t much left but I settled everything.” She swallowed and stared at the flames in the fireplace. “I carry all my problems with me, Haymitch.”

He studied her for a while. “That’s harsh for a kid who’s not even born yet.”

She turned her head so quickly something could have snapped in her neck. Her arms slid down her stomach and he wasn’t sure who she was hugging: herself or the child?

“The baby isn’t a problem.” she snapped with fierceness. “I want it.” He raised his hands in apology, he hadn’t meant to offend her. She softened a bit. “I don’t care what people have to say about it. They can call me all the names they want. I don’t mind…”

Having a child out of wedlock was _a big thing_ in the Capitol, he knew, even after the rebellion. It was frowned upon in the Districts but it wasn’t a crime either. He couldn’t say he cared who did what with whom.

“Where’s the father?” It was a legit question, he figured. She had said no one would come looking for her but there must be someone.

“I don’t know.” she picked up her tea and blew on it. She felt ill-at-ease, he could tell even if it had been years since they had last seen each other. Was it because they had once been lovers? Or was it because the awkwardness was still very present between them?

“He left you?” he growled with a flush of anger for that stranger who hadn’t taken on his responsibilities. Haymitch might never have wanted kids but he sure as hell would have done the right thing if it had happened to a girl he was sleeping with.

Effie remained silent for a moment and then she winced. “I don’t know who the father is.” she confessed, looking at her tea only. “I don’t think I want to know either. I wasn’t… The men I was sleeping with, they weren’t…” When her eyes met his, she was clearly afraid of his reaction. “I wasn’t in a good frame of mind after the rebellion, I made a lot of wrong choices.”

“You disappeared.” he was careful to keep his voice flat and non-judgmental. “I asked around, a few months after… Well, I asked around. You were nowhere to be found.”

Her hands clenched the mug too tight, the hot liquid splotched around. Haymitch took it away from her before she could burn herself. With nothing to keep her hands occupied, she put them back on her belly.

“I wanted… I wanted to be someone else.” she lowered her eyes. “I know it doesn’t make any sense but…”

“Makes sense to me, sweetheart.” He didn’t know why he reached for her hand but he did. She let him.

“I wanted to be anyone but the former escort.” she explained. “I wanted to forget. I started drinking, smoking, trying a lot of stupid things that would put your alcoholism to shame…” He frowned but she didn’t expand on that. “I was broke but I didn’t care. I went to parties, I flirted, I slept around… I pretended everything was alright. I pretended the nightmares didn’t exist, I pretended… I pretended I was happy. It was _easier_ to pretend.”

Two years was a long time to play pretend but who was he to judge? He had been pretending to cope for a long time before Katniss and her berries came around. “And?”

“And I woke up.” Her smile was quivering but it was brave. “I realized I was pregnant and I…” Her voice broke. “ _I just woke up_.”

He traced comforting patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb. “That was a few months ago. What did you do in-between?” It must have been. She was at least… What? Six or seven months pregnant? Eight maybe? She was big but not really big. He wasn’t an expert on pregnant women.

“I tried to deal with everything.” Her eyes were shining with tears again and he had to shoot down the need to hug her. He wasn’t sure she would welcome that at that very moment. “But it was… The second I stopped pretending the nightmares didn’t exist, they became… I…” she closed her eyes “I can’t sleep without waking up screaming. I used to take pills but now with the baby I can’t and…” She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her lips, one of those bright fake smile she was so apt at conjuring during the Games. “I didn’t have much money left, I tried to find a job but a sixth months pregnant former escort isn’t exactly enticing. I sold my apartment and most of my clothes and jewelry, I have enough to live for a few months. I found a home for… Well, they call that ‘fallen women’, I think it’s archaic and totally hypocritical but…” The fake smile never wavered. “They asked me to move out given that I spend most of my nights screaming out, I didn’t know where to go and you _did_ say I could come here if I needed help. I also thought apologies were long overdue on both part and…”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” he interjected.

She did.

“I’m sorry.” she sighed. “I just need a place to stay for a few days. I think I can find a flat to rent in my range of prices in one of the Districts, it will do until the baby is born and I can find a job. I really just need a few days without worrying if I will have a roof over my head at night.”

He waved the unspoken question away. He would never throw her out in the street in the first place, he wasn’t about to do it when she was pregnant.

 _Effie_ was _pregnant_.

His eyes fell back to the wool dress stretched around her round belly and his fingers twitched with a spontaneous desire to touch. It was weird because he had seen his share of pregnant women around and he had never felt compelled to put a hand on their stomach before. But it was Effie. And it was different.

He couldn’t believe she was going to have a baby. A screaming, wailing, red-faced tiny human being that would be clinging to her skirts for the next fifteen years at the very least.

“I didn’t know I wanted one until I saw the pregnancy test.” she said softly, probably following his train of thoughts. She had always been good at deciphering his thoughts, after all. “I won’t lie to you, I panicked when they told me I was pregnant but after a few days… I brought so many children to their death, Haymitch… Maybe I can bring this one to life and make sure he’s safe.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t really convinced. Children seemed to him an awfully obvious weakness. Besides, children, in his experience, were never safe. “Look, sweetheart, about that apology…” He had already apologized but if she wanted to start afresh, he would gladly take her up on the offer.

“I forgive you.” she smiled. A real smile, this time. “I blamed you because it was easy, really. Easier than to admit it was no one’s fault. I… _missed_ you.” Her voice became hesitant. “I hope we can be friends again.”

He wasn’t sure he could ever be _friends_ with her, their relationship had always been more complicated than that. He wasn’t sure that was something you could say to a pregnant woman either. Manners and all that crap…

“I…” he started, only to be interrupted for the second time that night by the honking of geese.

“What _are_ those birds?” Effie frowned. “They do an awful racket, you ought to…”

The loud noise of the backdoor banging open made her jump. _Literally_ jump. She bolted from the chair and took refuge against the furthest wall, hands protectively spread on her belly.

“Haymitch!” Katniss called, seconds before she barged in the room, supporting a very confused Peeta.

He forgot Effie when he saw the girl’s red hand. “Who’s hurt?” he asked at once, relieving her of Peeta’s weight and dropping the boy on the couch without a second thought. Katniss’ wince was all the answer he needed and he took hold of her hand, trying to get a better look at the deep cut on her palm.

“Take care of Peeta.” she argued, snatching her hand away. “He lost it when he saw the blood. I don’t know how…” Katniss fell silent, gaping at something behind his shoulder. He turned around to find the boy rocking slowly on his couch and…

“No!” he warned, pulling Effie back before she could sit next to Peeta and try to comfort him. “He can be dangerous.”

“Nonsense.” she decided, mouth pinched in a hard line.

“Effie?” Katniss asked but Haymitch ignored her.

He glared at the woman in front of him. “Sweetheart, you’ve been gone two years. Things have changed. If I tell you he’s dangerous, he _is_.”

“You’re being overdramatic like you always are.” she rolled her eyes. “Peeta wouldn’t hurt _me_.”

“Peeta wouldn’t hurt Katniss either and look at her hand.” he rolled his eyes. “He can’t help it.”

“I’m not…” Peeta’s voice rang out, rough and broken. “I’m back.” He was still rocking slowly. Katniss took a step closer to him but the boy stopped her by raising his hand. “No, _please_ … I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Katniss denied. “Just a scratch.”

“But there’s blood.” Peeta said. “I… _can’t_.”

“It’s alright.” Effie said suddenly, escaping Haymitch’s grip on her arm. She was sitting next to the boy before he could grab her again. It seemed Katniss and him both held her breath at the same time when she put her hands on his shoulders. The rocking stopped. “Everything’s fine, now, dear. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Effie?” Peeta asked in a small voice. He looked up at her in confusion and then turned to Haymitch and Katniss. “Real or not real?”

“Real.” Katniss said at once, but a bit disbelieving herself.

“Haymitch, take Katniss to the kitchen and get her wound cleaned. I’m sure you have enough alcohol to spare.” Effie instructed. “Peeta and I will wait right here.”

“So what, you’re here for less than a hour and you’re already back to calling the shots?” he snorted.

“I fail to see where the joke is.” she replied coolly. “Now, kindly wash the blood away before it triggers more unhappy memories for all of us, please.”

Katniss, who had been gaping and stunned into silence, looked down at her bleeding hand. “It’s not that deep. I can manage on my own.”

“If you could do it in the kitchen…” Effie said, a bit paler than before, looking at everything but Katniss’ hand.

“Go to the kitchen.” Haymitch requested, quickly assessing the situation. He didn’t quite trust Katniss’ medical skills but he also didn’t quite trust Peeta when he was in that hazy state. “Boy, you’re good?”

“Yes.” Peeta’s answer was immediate and resolute. “It’s just the blood.”

“Effie?” he prompted. She was rubbing her belly again like she was hurting. He didn’t like that.

“I will be just fine.” she stated. “I am not too fond of blood either. It’s very hard to remove blood stains from clothes.”

It was a sorry excuse of a joke but Peeta snickered and Haymitch decided they would be alright. He followed Katniss to the kitchen where the girl had already found a bottle of liquor and was awkwardly trying to pour it on the wound over the sink with her left hand. He took the bottle from her and inspected the gash under the dim neon lights.

“Is it yours?” Katniss burst out. He supposed it was lucky she had stayed silent as long as she had.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he grumbled. “I took care of that years ago.” He had never wanted to risk getting a girl pregnant and having to watch his own children die in the arena. People had loved that when Victors’ children were reaped. His decision had been final : he didn’t want children.

“Then what is she doing here?” she insisted curiously. “I mean… Last time I saw her, she was all… _Capitol_ and now…”

“You’re lucky, kid.” he shook his head. “A hair breadth deeper and you would have needed stitches.”

“You’re not answering.” she pointed out.

“Aren’t you a bright bulb…” He was generous with the amount of alcohol he poured on her palm. “Now, why were you playing with knives in the middle of the night?”

Katniss rolled her eyes but still gave an explanation about how they had been talking in her kitchen when Peeta had gone through one of his episodes. It was always the same thing. He had pushed her away from him, she had bumped against the table and her hand had accidentally found the blade of a knife. It was better than if Peeta had actually tried to kill her, he guessed.

When they got back to the living-room, they found Peeta with both of his hands on Effie’s belly and a grin eating half of his face. Effie was guiding his hands. Katniss froze but she wasn’t the only one.

“What in Panem are you two doing?” Haymitch asked.

“The baby’s moving!” Peeta said, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Really?” Katniss’s fake polite interest was probably as convincing as Haymitch’s.

Effie smiled at Haymitch like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she did. She often had in the past after all.

“How is your hand, Katniss?” Effie looked at the hand Haymitch had wrapped up in a clean towel with concern.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Katniss slumped on the chair Effie had previously sat upon and angled it so she could face the woman. “I’ve seen worse, you know.”

Peeta’s grin disappeared suddenly. An odd tension crept in the room and Haymitch felt the ghost of the Games breathing down his neck.

“Of course.” Effie winced. “How thoughtless of me.”

“She didn’t mean it like that.” Haymitch cut in.

She looked up at him uncertainly. He smirked on his way to the last empty chair and she relaxed slightly.

It was _so easy_ to fall back on old habits, he mused.

“Why didn’t you say, Haymitch?” Peeta frowned a little, obviously hurt by whatever he thought Haymitch had hidden from him. “How long were you going to wait before you told us you were going to be a father? Until the baby is born?”

Katniss bit her lower lip to keep the laughter in.

Effie’s face turned crimson.

“Tell me, kids, when _exactly_ do you think I found to the time to get a woman pregnant? Between you two and the geese, my days are full.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “You think I sneaked on the train at night, spent quality time in the Capitol and came back at dawn none the wiser? What is it with you two stupid…”

“I think we get the idea, thank you, Haymitch.” Effie cleared her throat, before smiling kindly at Peeta. “Haymitch is not the father.”

“Oh.” Peeta looked at Katniss. “But weren’t they… I remember talking with you on the train about…”

“Not real.” the girl said quickly before tilting her head. “Well, maybe it was, but I don’t know for sure.”

Haymitch didn’t know what they were talking about and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Maybe they had heard or seen something they shouldn’t have, he and Effie had always been careful but obviously not enough. He leaned in to grab his bottle and took a grateful mouthful.

“Who’s the father then, Effie?” Peeta asked curiously. “Are you married now?”

“Yeah, what happened to you?” Katniss added. “You didn’t keep in touch… Why are you in Twelve? Not that I’m not glad to see you, it’s great to have you here, really. I… kind of missed you.” It was uncertain and perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, Haymitch surmised.

“Thank you, Katniss.” Effie smiled, relaxing further unto the couch. “I missed you too. Both of you.” She patted Peeta’s shoulder with undisguised affection, before wincing a bit. Her hand went back to her belly.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” Haymitch’s sixth sense for impending doom was tingling.

“Tired, that’s all.” she sighed, her face softened when she saw how worried he was. “I promise you I’m just fine.”

His mouth pinched in a hard line. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” she said and it was definitive so he didn’t argue the point further.

“We should let you rest, we can catch up tomorrow.” Peeta suggested, his face hopeful. “You will still be here tomorrow, right? You’re staying for a few days?”

“She will be staying a few months.” Haymitch answered before she could and before he could think better of his own offer. “Time enough to catch up. Get the hell out of my house now.”

“Haymitch, really!” Effie huffed, obviously torn between gratitude, surprise and irritation. Irritation won, like it had always won in the past. “You’re being _rude_.”

“Thought you had missed it?” he teased.

Her lips twitched in a small smile. “You have known me for ten years and you still have no manners at all. That’s disheartening.”

“It’s not your manners I was interested in.” His smirk was slow and challenging. She blushed.

“Okay, real.” Katniss said, to no one in particular but Peeta nodded like he had understood.

“So… You’re staying in Twelve for the birth?” Peeta asked.

“I… No, I…” Effie stuttered. “Well, it depends.”

“She is.” Haymitch stated and he wondered why so many stupid things were coming out of his mouth that night. He hadn’t drunk that much. He wasn’t even _feeling_ drunk. Maybe that was the problem.

Effie looked at him with confusion. “I only need to stay for a few days, I told you. I can find an apartment and…”

“You can stay as long as you want.” he cut her off, putting down his bottle of liquor. “You can have the baby and stay until you find a job. As long as you need.”

Katniss’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Peeta looked surprised too but Haymitch didn’t really care. He had eyes only for Effie. He only knew he didn’t want her to leave again when he had just found her back.

“Haymitch, you don’t mean that.” Effie’s eyes were full of tears again. “You will be sick of me after a week.”

“Yeah, and you will probably bite my head off. Been there, done that.” he snorted, but she wasn’t over.

“And there’s the baby to consider.” she argued, her hands flying in the air to make her point. She nearly hit Peeta straight in the face but the boy dodged easily. “It may take some time before I find a job… It will cry and wake you up in the middle of the night… _I_ will wake you up in the middle of the night, I told you about the nightmares. Really, I…”

“You’re doing it again.” he said. “Breathe, Effie.”

The baby thing, he really didn’t want to think about for the time being.

“Haymitch, you don’t owe me anything.” she said again, with a pained expression. “I didn’t came here to guilt-trip you in…”

“No one has ever made me do anything by guilt-tripping me.” he laughed. Apparently, he was the only one who saw the humor in that. “Look, I don’t want you by yourself in some shady apartment in your condition. You’re staying here where the kids can pamper you.” Katniss winced. “Well, Peeta anyway. He will stuff you with cakes, knocked-up women like cakes, yeah?” The three glares were perhaps not unwarranted. “You’re staying. End of discussion.”

It took another ten minutes before the kids got bored with their bickering and went back to whosever’s house they were sleeping at that night. It was best. The way she had gone back to being perfect Miss Manners in front of the kids hadn’t escaped his notice. But now that they were alone, she didn’t bother pretending to smile.

“Princess, earlier you were afraid I wouldn’t take you in for one night! I say you can stay and you’re still not happy!” he sighed. “What else do…”

“I just don’t want you to feel you _have_ to.” she objected. “I don’t want you to pity me because I’m pregnant and alone and…”

“Pity you?” He made a face, picked up his bottle and took a swing. “I’m an old useless drunkard. What business would I have pitying you?”

“Stop it, you’re not.” she scowled, getting up from the couch with some difficulties. She snatched the bottle away from him and he let her, wondering if she was aware she was the only person he had ever allowed to do that in his entire life. “You’re sad.” she observed with a frown. “The children seem happier. Why are _you_ sad?”

“The kids have each other, I have my bottles.” he chuckled. “Can you do the math or do I need to spell it out for you?”

“You’re lonely.” she deduced in a breath.

“Lonely, haunted, broken… I’m the finest the Games produced, sweetheart.” he lifted his hand and let it fall again. “I thought I could have a real life after the rebellion, you know? I actually thought things could get better.” He laughed at his own stupidity but it was bitter.

“What is stopping you?” It was a whisper he didn’t answer. She wouldn’t like his answer. He didn’t want to remind her she had left him once for fear she would leave again. He was glad she had nowhere else to go in a way, as selfish as it was, because that meant he wasn’t going to lose her again just yet.

The feeling of impending doom never left as he showed her to the guest bedroom.

It didn’t left either in the following weeks.

In the next two weeks, three of his predictions were proven right. One, Peeta _did_ try to stuff her up with cakes. Two, she did bite his head off more than a few times but, to be fair, he had his good share of getting the last word. Three, she eased back into his life with an easiness that ought to be dishonest.

He got angry when she started cleaning his house but he ended up helping – and _not_ because Graesy Sae threatened to behead him if he let a pregnant woman do all the work like Effie claimed to Katniss and Peeta but because he didn’t want her bending in two to pick up the empty bottles littering the ground – and before three days, the house was in a pristine state that made him slightly uneasy.

He couldn’t go anywhere in the District without people congratulating him and offering their good wishes. It didn’t matter that he or Effie corrected them, nobody wanted to believe he wasn’t the father. Katniss was having a blast. He was sure it was her who had called Mason because Johanna hadn’t bothered with a phone call in two years and there she was suddenly, calling him with her congratulations and hysterical laugher over the whole thing.

Effie took to life in the Districts more easily than he thought she would have. She had became more self-reliant since the rebellion – prison would do that to you, he figured – and she was resilient. She accepted the dirty look some people threw her way without flinching but she also made some friends very quickly. She had always been a people person. Now that she didn’t look like a clown, all she had to do was smile that kind smile of hers and people warmed up to her.

It was Peeta who found her the secretary job at the Justice Building, thirteen days exactly after she had knocked on his door. Haymitch argued and argued that she shouldn’t take it – called him old-fashioned but he didn’t think pregnant women should work – but she did anyway. She talked about moving out for a few days, there were cheap accommodations in town for new-comers from other Districts or Capitol people – not that there were a lot of those – but she dropped the idea after Haymitch had told her that kind of cheap flat would probably have very thin walls, no heating and would be a very unsuitable place to take a newborn. It was all a lie, of course, and easier than saying he wanted her to stay but he had a feeling she knew everything he wasn’t saying.

His life took a new routine but it was better than the last one. Effie’d usually have already left for work when he woke up in the morning but she always left breakfast on the kitchen table – and it was mostly not edible, the woman couldn’t cook that well – he would meet her at Graesy Sae’s restaurant for lunch and he sometimes went to pick her up around five when she was done slaving her ass off in the Justice Building. He had told her she didn’t need to, victors still got their monthly allowances and he had enough money to support both of them for a long time, but she didn’t want to take his money. He would cook dinner – he wasn’t great but he was better than she was – or they would invite themselves to Peeta’s who always was happy to have them, they would talk, banter or bicker depending on the day and their mood, sometimes they would laugh and then they would go to bed.

The kids still barged in from time to time, after an episode or a nightmare, but Effie was surprisingly good with those for someone who couldn’t deal with her own traumatic experience. She usually let him deal with Katniss because the girl was more comfortable with him, although she did spend some time with Effie, but she wouldn’t let him take care of Peeta when he was out of it. She had a way to comfort the boy neither he nor Katniss could achieve. Katniss could get Peeta back to reality but he still felt awful about it afterwards, Effie helped him with the guilt. She had a motherly approach, she would hug and whisper in the boy’s ear until he relaxed completely and nodded in understanding.

Haymitch was still weary in those instances because what if Peeta relapsed just then and pushed her or something like that? He trusted the boy and he loved him as much as he loved Katniss but he couldn’t help but worry that someday Peeta would hit her in the belly that seemed to get bigger and bigger each day.

Haymitch was still ignoring the baby problem. He acted as if the pregnancy was an illness that would never end, an attitude that couldn’t last forever for obvious reasons but… He didn’t know what to do with the baby factor. He only knew he didn’t want Effie to leave.

“You’re drinking less.” Katniss commented one day, while they were walking in the woods. She had dragged him with her to check her snares because Effie had sworn she would kill him if he asked her again if she was feeling alright. He couldn’t help but worry each time she winced and clutched her stomach. It was normal she said, nothing to be concerned about. Well, Haymitch was very concerned.

“I don’t know.” he replied truthfully. He hadn’t been paying attention to his alcohol consumption. The smell of liquor made Effie feel ill – or so she said, she _could_ be manipulative when she wanted to be – so he had taken to drink outside, when he was feeding the geese or when she was out of the house. It often seemed more trouble than it was worth and he only drank to soothe the tremor in his hands. He had also stopped trying to drink himself to sleep. There was no point to it, not when Effie woke up screaming two to three times each night and he had to get out of his bed and into hers for a while. Holding her helped her get out of the night terrors but it didn’t completely chase them away, she was still shaking for several minutes after he would wake her up and he had to whisper for her to come back from wherever her mind had taken her before she would surface again. Curiously, her nightmares had done wonders to his. He had no time to have nightmares when hers were so present. It made her tired, though, and when she was tired she winced more often. Impending doom, his guts were saying and they had never been wrong before.

“I do.” Katniss insisted, handing him the bow to carry while she freed a dead rabbit from a snare. “You’re happier too. She’s good for you.”

“It’s not like that.” he grunted but Katniss only smiled at him like she knew best. Maybe she did. He didn’t know when the kids had started being better at the relationship crap than he was although if his track record was to be believed, he had always been crap at it.

“What about the baby?” the girl asked, carefully avoiding to meet his eyes.

“What about it?” he barked back, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

“Well, they’re kind of a package deal, Haymitch.” Katniss said softly. “If you want Effie…”

“I have my geese, she can have her kid.” he shrugged. It was premature to have that kind of conversation anyway. They brushed hands and smiled but they hadn’t even kissed yet. He wasn’t sure they ever would. Things were different than they had been, they weren’t the escort and the mentor anymore, they weren’t Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy. Learning how to be Effie and Haymitch was… No, it wasn’t hard exactly, it was very easy, easier than he had thought it would. But it wasn’t the same and he didn’t want to overstep and kiss her in case she didn’t want to. He didn’t want to risk scaring her away.

“Yeah, see, you tell her that and we will see how good a punch she has.” Katniss chuckled. “It’s a _kid_ not a pet. You will be part of his life, you will…”

“What’s your point, sweetheart?” he snapped.

Katniss stopped and sighed, looking flustered for some reason. “You’re like me, you don’t want kids. Effie got it rough after the rebellion. She doesn’t need more heartbreak.”

He didn’t know what she had told the kids about the life she had led for the last two years. A tone-down version, he figured. “Look, I’m not going to throw the kid to the wolves, am I?” he snorted. “She can keep him. I don’t see how that concerns me.”

Katniss glanced at him with such pity and anxiety, he cringed slightly.

“You’re pretending the baby isn’t here, Haymitch, but _it is_ and you will have to deal with it at some point.” She was clearly uncomfortable, Peeta was usually the one for pep-talks, but Peeta was baking more strawberry cupcakes because Effie was partial to them and he was absolutely delighted by the perspective of having a nephew or a niece to spoil – Effie didn’t want to know the sex, Haymitch thought that was stupid but it wasn’t his kid so he hadn’t shared his opinion. “You have to take a decision before someone gets hurt.”

“I didn’t know there was one to take.” he retorted, and it was hypocritical of course because he had been burying his head in the sand for so long at that point he would soon find himself on the other side of the planet.

“That’s the problem.” Katniss sighed but she dropped the subject.

It took him two days and a whole bottle of liquor to admit, Katniss did have a point. He couldn’t go on pretending the kid would never arrive, sense of foreboding notwithstanding. It was late afternoon and he found her in the living-room, sitting sideways on the couch, propped on two cushions and her legs stretched out in front of her. She was reading some kind of book about baby names. He didn’t really hesitate before lifting her legs to sit down and placing them on his lap.

“Your ankles are swollen.” he commented, because her ankles had always been frail delicate things and now they were… Well, swollen.

“As are my feet and legs.” she sighed, putting the open book on her chest to look at him with amusement. “Being an enormous whale will do that to you.”

“You’re not that big.” he argued for the sake of arguing. She was pretty big. He couldn’t imagine Peeta’s abundant sweets were helping. “Listen, I was thinking…”

“You don’t say.” she grinned.

He couldn’t help his smirk and his nervousness faded a little. Nothing to be nervous about anyway. “Leave the sarcasm to me, sweetheart. Cutting remarks are more your thing.”

“How are sarcasm and cutting remarks not the same thing?” she challenged, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“A perfectly valid question I will be happy to explore another time.” He absent-mindedly put his hands on her ankles and rubbed softly. She closed her eyes and simply relaxed. “The study upstairs, I never use it. It’s a small room but I was thinking…” he winced. “You could use that as a nursery. You know. If you want to.”

It was a small concession, he guessed. A room he never used anyway. Katniss would stop nagging, Peeta would stop throwing him dirty looks when he would flee the room every time the baby was mentioned and Effie would be a bit happier. She _did_ love a project after all.

“I am not sure that’s a very good idea, Haymitch.” she answered slowly, her blue eyes riveted on him.

“Well, you could also use _your_ room as a nursery and move into the study.” he shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one who’s always complaining about cupboard space.”

“I am not sure that’s a very good idea because I am not sure you want to live with a child full time.” she said and she avoided his eyes. “I’ve been looking at apartments again.”

His hands clenched her ankles instinctively. “Stay.” He didn’t want to lose her again. He wasn’t sure he _could_ lose her again. Last time, he had drowned so badly in alcohol he had lost count of days and nights. If it hadn’t been for Katniss and Peeta needing him… And the kids needed him less and less. They were grown people who had their own lives. “Please.”

He was begging but he didn’t even care.

“Haymitch…” she sounded hesitant. “I know you love to pretend it’s never going to happen but _there is_ going to be a baby, pretty soon now and…”

“I don’t mind the baby.” he objected. It was the truth mostly. And speaking of truths… “I want you here, Effie. I would have stayed in your _bloody_ Capitol with you two years ago if you had asked me. I don’t care about the baby.”

“Which is going to be a problem in the long run.” She gave him a pained smile. “I want to stay here too, I mean… I never would have thought we could work so well to be honest, but…” The sentence trailed off and Haymitch didn’t know what to do so he kissed her. It wasn’t a good kiss. It was awkward, the belly forced him to stretch his neck at an odd angle and it was mostly unresponsive on her part.

“We used to be good at this.” he winced against her lips.

Her giggles weren’t as carefree as they had once been but when she leaned in to try again, the familiar spark shot through him. Whatever they had in the past, it was still there. “I don’t mind the baby.” he stated again, between two kisses. “Stay.”

“He won’t stay a baby.” she retorted, fingers brushing through his hair. “He will grow up and become a toddler and then a child and then a teenager and he will take a lot of space and demand a lot of attention. We’re not talking about a pet here, Haymitch, we’re talking about a child. It requires commitment. You don’t want children.” She kissed him softly, sadly, and it felt like goodbye. He didn’t like it. “You’ve never wanted them.”

“Any potential children of mine would have ended up dead.” he sat back properly, fingers itching for a bottle of liquor that was nowhere to be found. In the kitchen, probably. “This one isn’t mine so it will probably be safe.”

“That isn’t really the question, though, is it?” Effie asked not unkindly. She placed her hand on her belly like she so often did. “I know you will keep him safe, I trust you to keep _us_ safe.” And he should already have been grateful for that small mercy because he had done a poor job of it in the past. “I’m not asking you to become something you’re not comfortable with but can you _care_ for him and not shut him out like you do to everyone you’re not comfortable with?”

There was a lump in his throat, the feeling of impending doom only increased. “Well, it’s yours.” He gave a half-shrug. “It’s a part of you. I liked even the part of you I hated back when you were an escort, so… Chances are I will like this one too.”

He wasn’t sure what it was he just said that made tears appear in her eyes but the next thing he knew, she was pulling on his shirt and kissing him again, a lot more fiercely than before. He was careful not to crush her very pregnant belly but he was still close to her and when he felt something against his own stomach, he jumped back, eyes wide. “What was that?”

“Baby has been kicking Mommy all day.” she cooed at her belly, before smiling at him. “He kicks hard, that’s a good thing.”

“If you say so.” He made a face.

“Do you want to feel it?” she asked. “Even Katniss has taken a liking to feeling him kick, you know. You’re the only one who has been acting like I was just getting bigger and bigger for no good reason.”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

She frowned. “I’m beginning to think you’re scared of the baby.”

“There is a thing growing inside you that kicks so hard I can feel it when we kiss.” he deadpanned. “Being scared is the only clever attitude to have.”

“Don’t call my baby a _thing_.” she hissed, pressing her hands on either side of her belly like she wanted to cover ears it didn’t have. He had caught her talking to her stomach more times than he could count so maybe she thought it had ears. What did he know? “And don’t be ridiculous.” She grabbed his hand and put it on the right side of her belly before he could do anything to stop her. He waited in dread but nothing happened.

“Well, here goes nothing.” he mocked. “It’s back to sleep.”

And just when he said that, he felt it. He had always been very careful not to touch before, even when he held her in the dead of night after a nightmare, but there, at that very moment, there was no denying the fact that there _was_ a living thing growing inside of her.

“He likes your voice, I think.” she laughed. “Say something else.”

“That’s ridiculous.” he huffed but when she took back the hand that was keeping his in place, he didn’t move away. “Why do you always say ‘he’?” It kicked again, strong and quick. It was a weird sensation.

“I don’t know.” She sounded amused for some reason but he didn’t know why, he wasn’t looking at her. He was eyeing the big thing that was giving so many nasty punches with something akin to wonder and fear. “A feeling.”

“I think it’s a girl.” he decided. It gave a small kick under his hand. “See? It agrees.”

She didn’t answer right away and when he lifted his head to see what the matter was, she was looking at him with undisguised affection in her eyes.    

He stopped going back to his room after he had waken her up from her nightmares. She slept better when she was in his arms anyway. He did too. There was no grand discussion about her moving into his room, it just… kind of happened. Her things gradually migrated from the guestroom to his bedroom and the study remained a study. The guest room, she said, would do a better nursery anyway.

The feeling of impending doom only increased when she asked him to take the furniture apart and bring them down to the cellar. Before he had understood what had happened, his guestroom was empty and Peeta was transforming it into a colorful four walls painting of bright birds, flowers, animals and whatever children liked. Effie was over the moon and Haymitch was watching it with dread, absolutely sure something would go to hell and soon. Katniss was the only one who noticed but she stayed blissfully silent and helped him bring up the furniture Effie had ordered straight from the Capitol.

She was around her eighth month when he started to get _really_ worried. The nightmares meant she didn’t get as much rest as she should, she was exhausted and dead on her feet most of the time. He told her to stop working, she told her she needed the money which was stupid because _he had enough for them both_ like he had stated repeatedly. They got into a huge fight, he stormed out of the house and straight into Katniss’ where he drank himself into a stupor. It had been a very long time since he had gotten that drunk. Katniss ranted and ranted about how much of an idiot he was but he didn’t really listen, when Effie finally calmed down enough to come looking for him, he was so out of it he said she should take better care of the baby if she didn’t care about her own health. He didn’t know what possessed him to say such a thing. What did he care about the thing growing in there that she argued was a boy when he knew perfectly well it would be a girl? Alright, in the beginning, he had insisted it was a girl just to spite her but the thing kicked every time he said that. He didn’t know how intelligent an unborn baby could be and he was half-sure it was a monster and not an actual baby anyway but it _kicked_ every time he said it was a girl, that couldn’t be a coincidence. Effie quitted her job the next day.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated that her being at home full time would mean he’d have to babysit her because she wanted to do things a _pregnant woman_ shouldn’t do, such as : lifting heavy pieces of woods to put a crib together. What had happened to good old cribs, he wondered? Why couldn’t she buy a model already in one piece instead of spare parts that came in boxes like a giant puzzle?

“Sweetheart, that doesn’t go there.” He took the screwdriver from her before she could do something that would make the last two hours working on that monstrosity go to waste.

“It does!” she objected. “I’m following the instructions. You have barely glanced at them!”

“Because it’s bullshit.” He didn’t even bothered taking a look at the heavy booklet she was waving in front of him. “We don’t need instructions.”

“My baby boy isn’t sleeping in a crib that hasn’t been properly put together.” she frowned. “What if it isn’t safe?”

“It will be safe.” He rolled his eyes. “And that’s a girl anyway.”

“It’s a boy.” she huffed.

“Girl.” He could play that game all day. At least, it kept her distracted from trying to help with those overly complicated furniture.

“ _Boy_.” she stomped her foot and he lifted his eyebrows, briefly taken aback.

“Now, who’s the baby, Princess?” he smirked.

She didn’t answer but her silence was telling.

“What about names?” he asked, faking disinterest as he tried to make sense of the crib pieces he was left to work with.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with obvious delight. “I thought you would never ask! Katniss and Peeta have been mostly unhelpful. They don’t seem to like anything.”

“You bet.” he mumbled under his breath.

“So, for boys I was thinking Arsenius.” she said very seriously.

“You are going to name your child after a poison?” He looked up at her in disbelief. She had relocated on the rocking chair he and Katniss had spent three hours putting together the day before – and that had been easier than that damn crib even if the girl had also insisted on reading the bloody instructions – apparently not caring he was sitting crossed-legged on the ground and freezing his ass off. Maybe they should add some carpets in the room.

“Don’t be preposterous.” she scowled. “I said Arsenius, not arsenic. It means manly, I will have you know.”

“You say Arsenius, I hear arsenic.” He shook his head. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“I like Fulgentius.” she hummed. “It means shining. Or Virginio perhaps.”

He didn’t even try to hide his laughter. “You’re joking, sweetheart! Do you hate that child?”

She didn’t take kindly to his mocking tone. “Those are good names.”

“Yeah, sure. If you want the boy to be picked on and be made fun of. _Virginio_.” He couldn’t help his smirk. “Just think of what other kids will come up with.”

“It is a perfectly sound name.” she clucked her tongue in irritation but then, she tilted her head and wince. “Although, you may have a point. Fulgentius is probably my favorite anyway.”

Haymitch cringed. “And for girls?”

“Oh, I’m so sure it’s going to be a boy, I haven’t quite decided yet.” Her smile was teasing. “You’re so adamant it will be a girl, maybe I should let _you_ choose.”

“Yeah, you could call her Vodka.” he replied without missing a bit. “Short and to the point.”

She rolled her eyes. “Portia came to mind, but…”

“Better not.” His hands gripped the nearly finished crib more strongly than he probably should have. On the plus side, it didn’t collapse. “Peeta will have a fit every time you call her and… Frankly, I could do without the daily reminder.”

“Yes, I figured.” she said quietly. “I like Pulcheria.”

“Now, you’re kidding me!” he whined. “Why can’t you choose normal names?”

“Those are normal names where I came from.” she sighed. “Would you rather Leontina? It means lioness.”

“Sweetheart, those are awful names.” There was no good way of saying that. “They’re ridiculously long.”

“Three syllables isn’t exactly long, Haymitch.” she snapped, clearly annoyed. “I don’t know what is your idea of a good name, but I am sure…”

“Two syllables, sweetheart, like everyone else.” he said with a shrug, screwing in the last piece of wood to the crib. “Hay. _Mitch_ ; Kat. _Niss_ ; Pee. _ta_ ; E. _ffie_. What would you have to go and give a three syllables name to a thing that won’t be bigger than your arm.”

“Once again, let me remind you that babies grow up.” she sighed.

“Yeah, into people who don’t like three syllables names.” he argued, dropping the screwdriver to tug on the support of the crib. It seemed okay to him. He stretched up his arms over his head, his back was hurting from all the hunching over pieces of wood and plastic. “Seriously, she will be surrounded by people with two syllables names, I bet Pulche… No, see? Even as a joke I can’t call her that.” He got up and scooped up one of the heavy box of stuff in the corner of the room before putting it in the crib, hoping for the best. It didn’t even so much as creak. “Perfectly safe.” he declared with a triumphant smirk.

“You do realize my name isn’t actually Effie, do you?” She sounded so serious he turned around to frown at her.

“Of course your name is Effie, Princess. What are you on about?” He took the box out of the crib and dropped it in the middle of the room before sitting on it. It was better than the ground.

“Haymitch, please, tell me you know my full name.” She was rocking slowly and staring at him with equal part amusement and exasperation. He gestured at her to go on. “Euphemia. My name is Euphemia, Effie for short. I can’t _believe_ you didn’t know that.”

“Euphemia.” The name rolled on his tongue, hard and unfamiliar. “I don’t like it. What does it mean?”

“Well-spoken.” She glared at him. “Don’t you _dare_ make a joke.”

“Yeah, well that proves my point.” he said, getting up and outstretching a hand to help her out of the rocking chair. “We’re not calling the kid something so ridiculous.”

It wasn’t until that night, when Effie was sleeping nestled against him and he was having an interesting one-sided conversation with her stomach – because she had argued and argued that it was good for the baby to hear voices and that if he never spoke to it, it wouldn’t recognize him once it was born, so he had given up and started talking to the thing that always kicked when it heard his voice, although he did it in the dead of night when he was sure no one would hear him – that he realized he had said _we_.

Life was good, so, of course, he wasn’t actually surprised to get a phone call from a frantic Peeta one day. He had gone to the new – and cleaner – Hob with Katniss because the girl wanted to sell some of her game and he had meant to restock his liquor cabinet for a few days. Effie had frowned at that but she had been too busy decorating the nursery to fight, he had left her in Peeta’s care though and had _specifically_ told the boy to watch out for signs of exhaustion. She had suffered a particularly nasty nightmare the night before and she was eight months in her pregnancy, she was _always_ tired.

When Graesy Sae stormed out of her restaurant as fast as her old legs could carry her and told him his girl was at the – also new – District Twelve hospital, he was too stunned to move.

“It’s about your baby.” Graesy Sae had said.

“Not my baby.” he had answered automatically before Katniss dragged him through the whole District to the shiny hospital that still wasn’t up with the Capitol technology but was the best thing Twelve ever had.

Haymitch was silent as Katniss talked to people and found out where Effie was. The feeling of impeding doom wasn’t a feeling anymore, it was a bloody alarm bell ringing in his head that left him mute and deaf to the world.

Except when he saw Peeta, standing in the corridor, outside an exam room, a sheepish look on his face. At that moment he was neither mute or deaf, he was just plain irrationally angry. He slammed the boy into the wall by the lapels of his jacket. “I told you to take care of her!” he roared and he didn’t know what he would have done if Katniss hadn’t squeezed her body between them and pushed him away.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta said. “She tripped on a stuffed bear and she fell, I didn’t have time to catch her but she’s fine, Haymitch. She’s fine.”

The grip that had been clutching his heart since Graesy Sae had run out of her restaurant eased a little.

“What about the baby?” Katniss asked.

Peeta winced. “They’re not sure. They’re about to do an ultrasound.”

He pushed the boy from his path and rushed into the exam room, not caring if he was allowed in or not. Katniss and Peeta stayed on the threshold.

“Haymitch!” Effie sobbed in relief when she saw him. The woman in a white coat that was spreading some sort of sticky gel on her round stomach looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, because he didn’t trust Peeta’s information. If she had been fine, she wouldn’t be wearing a hospital gown rolled up under her breasts and showing her panties for everyone to see without a care in the world, her cheeks wouldn’t been soaked with tears and she wouldn’t look as terrified as she was.

“I fell on the baby.” She grabbed his arm and sobbed and he didn’t know what to do. He had never ever felt more helpless than at that precise moment. “What if he’s dead? What if…”

“No need to panic just yet.” the doctor cut in. “We will know more after the ultrasound.”

“And what are you waiting for to do the _fucking_ ultrasound?” he snapped, because it had taken at least fifteen minutes for Katniss and Peeta to get there, couldn’t they have get a move on before? What kind of hospital was that?

Effie didn’t even correct his manners which told him all it needed to.

“We had to make sure your wife hadn’t injured herself in her fall, sir.” the doctor said patiently, obviously accustomed to that kind of rude behavior. “I assure you we’re doing our best.”

“She’s not…” he found himself stammering. “We’re not married.”

The woman nodded distractedly but didn’t really pay him any attention, she rolled a big machine next to Effie’s bed.

“Haymitch.” Effie whispered, her nails dug painfully in his skin and she put her other hand on her stomach, disrupting the gel the doctor had spread out. “I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to know. I want to go home. Take me home.” The pointed stare the woman sent his way told him to take care of this and quickly. She tried to remove Effie’s hand but she clutched at her belly in despair. “Haymitch, take us home, please. _Please_.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not really knowing what to do. It was Thirteen all over again. She was crying and hurting on a hospital bed and he was at a loss for words.

Except not this time.

He had failed her once, he wouldn’t fail her again.

There was a stool in the corner of the room, he took it and sat right next to her head, barely noticing Katniss and Peeta were still standing next to the door. “You need to get a grip, Effie.” he told her sternly but he made sure he was gentle when he brushed her hair out of her face. “We need to check on Fulgarius even if it’s an terrible name for a baby.”

“Ful _gentius_.” she corrected with wobbly lips. The tears didn’t stop.

“That’s even worse.” He rolled his eyes but he didn’t stop petting her hair. “We make sure the baby’s alright and then I will take you home, alright?”

“But what if he’s not alright?” Her voice was broken and frightened beyond measure. He thought about the room painted with giant flowers, birds and all sort of silly things, about the crib and the ridiculous amount of toys, baby clothes and baby related things scattered around the house waiting to be put in their proper place, he thought about how their life had started revolving around the baby’s movements and he hoped to whatever deity was listening that it was alright. How was he supposed to take her back to the house if it wasn’t? Everything would be a reminder.

It would kill her. She would never come back from something like that.

“ _She’s_ alright.” He forced himself to sound confident and casual. “And I’m not letting you calling her Leonitas. It sounds like an ice-cream brand.”

“Leontina.” she corrected again, a little more composed.

He pressed his lips against her forehead and the doctor took the opportunity to remove the hand that was preventing her from doing the ultrasound.

“Effie, stay still for a few seconds, alright?” the woman requested. “You know how it works.”

“How does it work?” he asked. Taking a clue from Effie, he watched the screen attached to the machine but aside for a world of grey, there wasn’t anything to see.

“Is it your first ultrasound?” The doctor’s smile was polite and she was clearly aiming at distracting him as much as she was distracting Effie. Tough luck.

“Why isn’t his heart beating?” Effie begged. “Why…”

“I am still trying to get a good angle.” the woman said, watching the screen intently. “Don’t start thinking the worst, we just need to…” She smiled suddenly. A real smile this time and relieved too. “There.”

Haymitch started to relax a second before the strangest sound echoed through the room. It was a whooshing kind of sound at first and then… It was…

“Look at your baby, Effie.” the doctor said but he barely heard it. “She’s perfectly fine.”

“She?” Effie’s voice cracked in utter emotion but Haymitch didn’t register that or the kids’ relieved and excited chatter in the background.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the doctor exclaimed. “Did you want to keep the surprise? I’m sorry, it wasn’t in the chart…”

“No, it’s alright.” Effie laughed, through nervous tears. “I’m just glad she’s alright. Are you _sure_ she’s alright?”

“The scan is clear and listen to her heartbeat… She’s a tough one your baby girl.” the woman promised.

 _Heartbeat_. That was what it was. The sound of a beating heart. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen and the small human shape there. “Baby girl.” he whispered, feeling a lump starting to form in his throat. He felt dizzy but it was a good kind of dizziness, like the kind he had felt when he had first started drinking, before he became accustomed to the sensation. The feeling of dread slowly disappeared, chased away by each pulsation of her tiny, _tiny_ heart.

People were talking around him but he could hear nothing over the sound of her heartbeats. He could see nothing but the baby-shaped figured on the screen.

“Haymitch, you’re alright?” Katniss’ voice asked. Someone, probably the girl, put a hand on his shoulder and gave a small shake. It didn’t break the strange spell he was under. He felt star-struck. This tiny, small thing who kicked when he talked to it in the middle of the night had bewitched him.

“I think he’s going to faint. Haymitch, do you want to sit down?” That was Peeta.

He was already sitting down, he wanted to answer but he realized that, in fact, he wasn’t. He had stood up at some point and now that he was aware of that small detail, he slumped back on the stool Peeta had pushed his way.

“All new dads are like that.” the doctor laughed, before removing the captor. The heartbeat sound stopped and the screen went back to black. The sense of loss was crushing and he put the hand that Effie wasn’t clutching on her stomach, hoping for a kick, not caring about the sticky gel stuff.

“Haymitch is not…” Effie started, he squeezed her hand. He didn’t know why but he was glad Effie knew him as well as she did, better perhaps than he knew himself. “usually that easy to impress.” she sidetracked quickly.

“Just wait until he holds her for the first time.” the woman winked. “I love that part. The dad always look like he’s going to fall apart.”

Effie looked at him again but he remained silent. He didn’t know why it was so important that the doctor believed that the kid was his, he didn’t know why he wasn’t correcting her when he had been correcting everyone for the past two months, he didn’t know why he was feeling so damn stunned. He just knew he had felt something he had never felt before when he had heard the baby’s heartbeat, something akin to belonging. He belonged to that baby and that baby belonged to him. It was irrational, it was probably stupid, it was everything he had never wanted but that kid was _his_.

Peeta clapped him on the shoulder with far too much enthusiasm, Katniss’ smile was genuine and happy. He barked at them to get out of the room, Effie wasn’t wearing anything much and that wasn’t a show for Peeta. He fooled no one. Effie didn’t stop smiling until they went to bed and even then, she fell asleep with a grin on her lips.

He had a nightmare for the first time in months. A really, _really_ bad one that was. He woke up to Effie’s voice asking him to come back, to wake up, whispering that it was nothing but a dream over and over again. Her voice lulled him back to the waking world but, in the end, he jumped awake, confused and disoriented. She was standing next to the bed, probably because he had been trashing too violently and she had feared for the baby. It made him sick.

He sat against the headboard and put his head in his hands, panting hard. She climbed back in the bed slowly and put a carefully hand on his shoulder but it didn’t help shake the remnants of the nightmare away.

The images were seared on his eyelids, clear as day.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked in a whisper.

“I changed my mind.” he replied at once. “You were right. You should find an apartment, get your own place. Get out of _my_ _bloody_ _house_.” He was harsh and mean and he wanted her out. Out of his bed, out of his life.

“Was the nightmare about me?” she asked, unfazed by his abruptness. When had she ever been?

“I don’t want you.” he spat, instead of answering. His hands burrowed in his too long hair and tugged because the pain helped staying focused. “I don’t want you, I don’t want your kid. Get the bloody hell out.”

“In the middle of the night.” It wasn’t sarcasm exactly, but it was very close. Her hand was still on his shoulder and it rubbed slowly, massaging the tension away.

“You can go to one of the kid’s.” he growled but her touch was starting to calm him down. It shouldn’t but it did.

“You have a bad habit of pushing me away when you’re afraid for me.” she hummed. “I’m safer with you, you should remember that.”

Oh, he remembered that perfectly. She would have been safer if he had taken her with him during the rebellion instead of trusting strangers to get her out. She would have been safer still if he hadn’t been close to her in the first place but that was a moot point. There was no staying away from Effie Trinket once she had decided she wanted you.

And yet, none of that was the problem.

“Not if I’m the danger.” he snapped. “Not if…” He fell silent abruptly, bribes of the nightmare coming back to haunt him. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes when she propped her chin against his shoulder. “You don’t want me near that kid. I will screw up. I screwed up today already.”

“Because you admitted you wanted her?” Effie was a little too perceptive sometimes. “That doesn’t commit you to anything, Haymitch. You didn’t say anything you can’t take back. I told you, I’m not asking you to become something you’re not comfortable with. You can be the grumpy uncle.”

“The grumpy uncle who fucks Mommy?” he snorted. “Right. How is _that_ going to work?”

“I don’t know.” she sighed. “We will think of something. You didn’t…” She paused and frowned. “Could you please watch out your language? I don’t particularly want my child’s first word to be ‘fuck’ or ‘screw up’.”

He would never be able to tone down his language. The kid would swear like a sailor before she was four, he was sure.

“I should have been here today. You wouldn’t have fallen if I had been here.” he argued, rubbing his face. “I went for the liquor, I screwed up, see? That’s going to happen again and again and…”

“Haymitch.” she cut him off. “When was the last time you went to the Hob for liquor?”

What had that got to do with anything, he wondered? “Last month.” He wasn’t sure. He thought it was after that awful row they had about her using his razorblade when she could just as well buy her own. Awfully domestic that fight had been. Peeta and Katniss, who could hear everything from their house given that he and Effie were both shouting very loudly, had been in stitches over the whole thing. They had teased him senseless.

“And how often did you use to do that before I came to live here?” She pressed a soft kiss to his naked shoulder which distracted him a bit.

“I don’t know. Once a week, once in a fortnight.” he frowned. “What are you…” And then it hit him. “Oh.” Well, wasn’t that an awkward thing to do unconsciously.

“Precisely.” Her smug grin was begging to be kissed into oblivion but he controlled himself because really… “You’ve been severing yourself from liquor for weeks now, Haymitch. I wasn’t sure you even noticed.”

He hadn’t. Not really. He was drinking only when the need was too strong, those days, when his hands started to shake too badly. He was constantly afraid something would happen and he would be too drunk to be of use.

“It doesn’t matter, Princess.” he grunted, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “I don’t need booze to screw this kid up. I can’t be the grumpy uncle, Effie, we both know that. You’re her mother, I will be living here with you and that will make me the step-father or whatever ridiculous term you want to use and I can’t be a father. I… I will screw up. It’s better if…”

“Do you want her?” Effie asked very seriously. “I saw your face when you heard her heartbeat… You looked…”

“Stupid?” he guessed.

“At _peace_.” she whispered, ignoring his poor attempt at wit. “So, do you want her?”

A self-righteous man, a _better_ man, would have said no. He would have sacrificed his own happiness for Effie’s and her child’s. If she left then, if she found a new apartment, she could still make a life for herself. She could find a nice man who would be delighted to play dad and she would be happy.

And the very idea of a man putting his hands on Effie was every bit as horrifying as a stranger getting to laugh and carry a little girl who looked just like her mom – because that was how he pictured the kid, like a smaller Effie and that kid was _his_. It was stupid of course, every bit as stupid as the knowing smile blossoming on Effie’s lips.

“Yeah.” he confessed, his hand automatically finding the side of her belly where the kid kicked the most often. There was no punch or movement under his fingers. Maybe she was sleeping. “Yeah, I want her.” He swallowed hard because he was selfish but to a point. “That’s why you should leave. I can guarantee I _will_ screw up. I will be the worst father ever and…”

“You’re already a good father.” She rolled her eyes. “Look at Katniss and Peeta. What do you think you are to them?”

“It’s different.” He laid back down and looked up at her, begging her to understand. “I can’t screw them up much more than they already are. They’re grown up. They’re not…” A helpless baby that could fit in the crook of his arm and whose heartbeat was so, _so_ strong.

“Haymitch, I love you but sometimes you are very thick.” she sighed.

He startled a bit. It wasn’t the first time she had said that, it had happened a few times when they were still escort and mentor. He had laughed at her face each and every time. It was too late when he had tried to say it back after the rebellion, she hadn’t wanted to listen – not that he could have said the words themselves anyway, he wasn’t good with those three particular words. He couldn’t really blame her.

“Do you think I am not afraid?” She sounded irritated. She laid back down too and arranged the blankets over them with sharp tugs that didn’t do a good job at covering them up. “Being afraid is perfectly normal when you’re about to have a baby and you can’t have a whole night of sleep undisturbed by nightmares. Here’s the thing, I know, I know _in my heart_ , this baby is my second chance at having a good life.” She purposely didn’t look at him. “She’s my miracle. She could be yours to. If you want me to go then, fine, I will go but you should know you’re a part of my family either way. We don’t have to be afraid for our children anymore, Haymitch, we’re _safe_. So we are going to be a family and you will be a part of it whatever you choose. You can be her father or you can be the grumpy uncle who raises geese when he isn’t fucking Mommy, that’s your choice but you’re staying in my life whatever your choice is.”

“Are you done?” he asked, equally amused and stunned by her little speech.

“I think so, yes.” she breathed out, turning her head too look at him. Her hair curled around her head on the pillow like a weird halo.

“You would trust me to be her dad?” He didn’t know why his voice was so rough, so _raw_.

“Truthfully, Haymitch, you are the only man I’ve ever thought of having children with.” she confessed. Even in the darkness he could see the blush creeping on her cheeks and he wondered what she was embarrassed about. He guessed, though. He would have made fun of her for that confession in the past, he would have been mean and he would probably have left her in tears. That was in the past though. Things had changed. The Games were over.

He rolled on his side and brushed back some strands from her face. “This is freaking me out.” he said, with more honesty than he had probably ever showed regarding a potential weakness of his.

“As it should.” she smiled softly. “Am I moving out or staying then?”

He rolled his eyes and held her close – or he tried to anyway, it was becoming increasingly harder with each week and each pound she took. “This is going to be a complete mess.” he sighed. “But for what it’s worth… I don’t think I would ever consider having a kid with anyone else. I’d have run away weeks ago.”

She kissed him slowly and it frustrated him to no end because there wasn’t much they could do except kissing. “How long until she’s out of there?” he whined. Effie whacked his arm playfully but he didn’t really mind. He placed his hand on her belly again. “Leontina.” he said and immediately made a face. “I can always call her Leon or Tina.”

“Those are awful nicknames for a girl.” she cringed.

“Well, that’s an awful name to begin with.” he shrugged, settling back against her to try and get some sleep.

“We need another one, then. One we both agree on.” She was drawing patterns on his arm absent-mindedly.  

“Good luck with that.” he yawned. “We never agree on anything.”

“How about Tanaquil?” she mused.

“How about no?” he replied.

“How about you actually suggest something before I decide to smother you with a pillow?” Her voice was light but he could tell she was annoyed and he wouldn’t put it past her to actually try to smother some sense into him.

How did you choose a baby name exactly? Flower names were kind of traditional in Twelve for girls but his head was awfully empty. “Ivy?” he offered.

He didn’t need to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. “Like poison ivy, really, Haymitch?”

“Well, it’s resilient. You’re the one obsessed with name signification.” he shrugged.

“Cerytia.” she countered.

It wasn’t the worst thing she had suggested but… “You’re damned bent on three syllables names, aren’t you?”

“It’s proper.” she argued.

“If it’s so proper why do you go by Effie, _Euphemia_?” Her full name made him shudder. It made him think of euphemism and that wasn’t a word he would ever associate with Effie.

“We both know you’re going to call her sweetheart or princess anyway, so humor me, would you?” she sighed.

“Don’t listen to her you’re not a sweetheart or a princess.” he scowled, patting her belly comfortingly. He realized a second too late that she had never actually _witnessed_ him talking to her stomach before. Well… Busted for busted. “You’re my baby girl.”

“You are going to spoil her rotten and I am going to be the only one insisting on some discipline, am I?” she asked with amusement.

“Probably.” he admitted in a smirk. “How about Marygold?”

She actually considered it for a few second. “I don’t like the Mary part, it’s common. Gold, now…”

“We’re not calling her Gold.” he ruled out.

“Of course we’re not calling her Gold, don’t be daft.” she snapped. “Orianna. What do you think?”

“Orianna.” he repeated, trying the name out. It wasn’t a bad name. It was a very good name even if it was far too long. “I like it. We can call her Oria for short.”

“Good.” she hummed against his neck. “That settles it.”

And the small kick under his hand settled it even more. He was really convinced that baby was going to be the smartest child to ever live. “Good choice, baby girl.” he approved. Effie’s amusement was radiating from her in waves.

He was starting to doze off when Effie’s murmur brought him back. “Do you care that she’s not really yours?”

Did he? “Sweetheart…” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “She’s already mine.”

The last month of her pregnancy happened without a single hitch – except for the fact Effie threatened more than once to kill him if he didn’t stop his incessant fussing which prompted the kids to start counting points during their bickering matches. When the first contractions began, a good week before she was due, he was down by four points.

He couldn’t say he really cared.

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…” Effie hissed through her teeth as the doctor – the same woman as last time – told her to push. It _did_ hurt. He didn’t think his hand would ever recover from all her clawing at it.

“You’re doing great, Effie.” the woman assured her. “Isn’t she doing great, Haymitch?”

The doctor seemed to find his increasing paleness very funny. He had seen a lot of horrible things in the Games and in the war but he had never been in such a horrifying situation. He had tried to stay in the waiting room with Peeta and had even suggested Katniss would be better at holding her hand but Effie’s glare had been enough to convince him there would be hell to pay if he didn’t man up and step in the delivering room with her.

“Awesome.” he deadpanned, wiping the sweat off her brow with what would soon be his only functioning hand. He thought of Chaff, without really knowing why, and wondered what his old friend would have said if he had still been around to see him holding Effie’s hand while she was giving birth to their child. Probably something Effie wouldn’t care for their daughter to hear.

“Alright, one last push.” the doctor smiled.

He knew it was worse for Effie but, really, his hand was killing him. She had a damn strong grip for a woman so small. Well… who used to be so small.

Effie fell back against the table, panting heavily and finally, _finally_ , stopped mauling his hand. He shook his numb fingers and badly scratched palm, hoping to regain its feeling while the doctor cut the ombilical cord. That was forgotten as soon as he heard it.

The wailing.

And then nothing else existed in his world but the small crying baby a nurse placed on Effie’s chest.

“It’s a beautiful baby girl, perfectly healthy.” the doctor said with a smile. “Congratulations.”

Effie was grinning so hard he couldn’t tell if the tears rolling on her face were from the pain of giving birth or from joy. “Hello, Oria.” she cooed at the baby, she retraced the tiny nose and the pink gurgling lips with the tip of her fingers. “Hello, sweetie.”

Haymitch was transfixed and perfectly happy with watching his two girls greeting each other for the first time – because they were both his now and always would be. When the doctor pushed a stool behind him, he sat down gratefully next to Effie’s head. He could swear he had seen the woman rolling her eyes in amusement but he didn’t pay any attention because Effie was looking at him pointedly and he didn’t know what to do. One of the nurse had to guide his arms in a proper position and no one listened to his frightened refusals. He shut up once Effie put the baby in his arms.

“Meet your Daddy.” Effie said softly and he didn’t know why his sight blurred exactly – he would deny any tear – but… She was so small and so light. She looked at him with those big blue baby eyes and he was lost, gone and done for. He had been wrong, she wasn’t his. He was hers.

It took some times before he could tear his eyes away from the tiny miracle in his arms and look at Effie again. She was still crying quietly but she also seemed content to watch them so it was probably the aftershock or something. He leaned in to kiss her, careful not to jolt Oria. It was all very surreal.

“I love you.” The words came out by themselves, he hadn’t planned them. It was the best gift he could give her though. A poor gift compared to what she had just offered him but… He _did_ love her. He had loved her for so long… He just didn’t know how to put it into words most of the time. That was okay, she was good at understanding him.

Effie’s face softened even more and she stroked his cheek before touching each tiny finger of their daughter’s hand. “I love you too.” she grinned. “I love you both.”

He actually growled when a nurse tried to take Orianna away but he relented in the end, once the doctor had promised it was just to clean her up and that it wouldn’t take long. He went to the waiting room while they took care of Effie too and could barely face Katniss’ smug grin or Peeta’s knowing eyes.

“Shut up.” he warned them, but then he started describing his perfect doll of a daughter and he wasn’t sure what there was to be embarrassed about after all. He bore Katniss’ teasing and Peeta’s softer joking and he even let them hug him more than once. He had never felt prouder than at the moment the nurse gave him permission to lead them to Effie’s room. Congratulations were exchanged and then Oria was passed from arms to arms under his watchful stare. Effie teased him quite a bit about it but that was alright, she was watching their daughter like a hawk too.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” the nurse came back at some point when Katniss was listing all the things she was going to teach her new favorite niece – things that, he could tell, made Effie’s hair stand straight on her head. “I will need a name for our records and one of you will need to go to the Justice Building to register the birth too.”

“Orianna Euphemia Trinket.” he answered, looking down at the baby in his arms with a conniving smirk. They hadn’t discussed her middle name but he figured he would have a bad influence on her language so she could have a bit of _well-spoken_ influence. “A ridiculously long name for such a tiny thing.”

The nurse smiled politely and started scribbling on her notepad.

“Abernathy, not Trinket.” Effie said suddenly. The nurse stopped writing with a frown and the kids looked at each other. Haymitch just froze. “Now it’s even longer.”

“And more ridiculous.” he added, his mouth felt parched.

“Well, her father _is_ a ridiculous man after all.” Effie teased with a smile.

“Less than her mother.” he snorted, looking back at the baby and trying to rock her to sleep awkwardly. He was still half-convinced he was going to drop her accidentally. “Daddy never looked like a clown, did he, baby girl?”

Katniss’ snort wasn’t appreciated and he made sure to glare at her to make her aware of that but he couldn’t really take his eyes away from the baby for very long.

“So, will it be Trinket or Abernathy?” the nurse asked, confused.

He glanced at Effie, her blue eyes were watching him without judgment or expectation. “Your choice.” she said. “It’s just a name, that doesn’t change anything.”

But it did.

It was a claim.

And just to think he had been commitment-phobic up to that point.

“Abernathy.” he told the nurse and then he cleared his throat to get rid of the ridiculous lump in his throat. The nurse nodded and slipped out of the room quietly. “You do realize that it’s weird for a kid not to have the same name as his mother, right?”

“Well, then, run after the nurse and tell her you changed your mind.” Effie shrugged, holding out her arms for her daughter. He delayed answering because he _really_ didn’t want to drop Oria and he wasn’t sure he had the hang of handling her over yet.

“That’s not what I had in mind.” He didn’t look at her. He wished the kids would take a hint and get the bloody hell out but they seemed damn set on witnessing the whole thing. Peeta got it, he knew, the boy was grinning like a fool. Katniss’ eyes were slowly getting as wide as saucers.

“I don’t understand, Haymitch.” Effie said, distracted by the drooling baby on her chest. “Could you hand me a cloth over, please?”

He rummaged around one of the two heavy bags they had brought with them when she had started having contractions. He didn’t know why they needed so much stuff when they were in a hospital that probably had enough of the same things to spare but… as Effie had taken great pleasure in pointing out, he knew nothing about babies.

Not entirely true. He knew his daughter was the cutest baby to ever live.

“I’m saying you should have the same name as we do.” he sighed, finally finding the soft clothes she had bought just to wipe out drool – because apparently it needed to be soft and a lot of other things. “I’m saying we should have a toasting, sweetheart.”

“So, _so_ romantic.” Katniss cackled, unable to hide her amusement any longer. She buried her face in Peeta’s shoulder who put a arm around hers and patted her back to calm her laughter.

Effie looked confused by Katniss’ hilarity. “A toasting?”

“Yeah.” Haymitch shrugged, getting more and more sullen by the second. “We could. If you want to.”

She frowned and looked at Peeta, admittedly the only one in the room who wasn’t either laughing or sulking. “I don’t know what that means.”

“He’s asking you to marry him.” Peeta smiled. “And not doing a very good job of it.”

“Boy, when I need advice from…” he started.

“Oh.” Effie said and he turned around to face her, forgetting to be angry with Peeta.

“Oh?” he repeated. “You just gave my name to your child, I ask you to marry me and all you have to say is _oh_?”

“Figure they would fight over this.” Katniss snickered in Peeta’s shoulder.

They mutually decided to ignore the kids.

“Actually, you haven’t asked me anything.” Effie pointed out, carefully placing a hand on the baby’s stomach. Oria was clad in an awful pink romper suit.

“She looks like a raw piece of salmon.” he said out of the blue. “Where is the yellow one? I like the yellow one.”

He had made sure she’d put it in the bag when she was packing. The yellow one had birds on it and it was a lot less silly than that pink thing.

“She does _not_ look like a raw piece of salmon.” Effie snapped. “Now if you’re done insulting our daughter, are you going to ask me to marry you or not?”

“Well, I don’t know, sweetheart, are you going to let me talk?” he sneered right back.

“I’m letting you talk right now and you’re not saying anything worth my time.” She rolled her eyes. “As usual.”

“Great.” he snorted. “Good thing I haven’t asked you to marry me yet, is it?”

“Guys…” Peeta cut in.

“Stay out of this, boy.” Haymitch grunted. “This is between Effie _Not_ -Abernathy and me.”

Effie’s mouth twitched and Haymitch forgot why he was angry. “Effie Not-Abernathy would love to become Effie Abernathy if only Haymitch Abernathy would _ask_ properly.”

“Are you going to marry me or not, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice a bit, but just because Oria was starting to stir and he didn’t want her to wake up to loud shouts.

“Why, despite the fact that this is probably the worst proposal I’ve ever heard, I believe I am.” Effie grinned and pulled on his shirt so he would bent down and kiss her. “You’re lucky I love you.” she whispered low enough so the kid wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah.” he breathed out, kissing her again and brushing a finger against Oria’s tiny hand. “I really am.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, there is a collection of prompts on ff.net called Have a Drink, Sweetheart (my pen name is Ellana-San) and chapter 43 and 75 feature an older Oria if anyone is interested :)


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